dust to dust
by bluestoplights
Summary: Emma Swan is Storybrooke's local vampire slayer. The last thing she needs is Killian Jones making a mess out of her job with his quest for revenge against a demon that can't be defeated. / BTVS-inspired AU for crossover day of CS AU Week.


**A/N: JUST IN TIME! I wanted to get something done for AU week, and crossover day seemed perfect for that. I've been deep into a Buffy rewatch lately, so I was feeling super inspired to write something BTVS-inspired. And I don't think I've read any AUs necessarily like this? Universe, setting, and Killian-wise I think it's a fairly new take. I really hope you guys enjoy this and I am SO RELIEVED I managed to crank this out just barely in time. Forgive me for my lateness!**

-/-

Emma stops by the station before she goes out for the night, taking care of some last minute paperwork so David doesn't have to. He's been taking extra shifts lately, trying to make up for all she has to miss to do other things, and Emma has to admit she feels guilty about it. Her finishing the latest filings on noise complaints are just a small favor. Hopefully, it balances the scales a little.

When she walks into the station, though, someone is already there. A man about her age, late twenties or early thirties, is seated in one of the chairs they usually reserve for visitors. He must have gotten in just as David left. With a leather jacket, an earring, and what appears to be eyeliner on, he looks every bit the role of someone up to no good.

"Can I help you?" Emma asks, her voice showing her suspicion. She doesn't know whether or not to go for her gun or her stake, but the guy is setting off alarm bells. "You know, you could have just called instead of lurked here. We answer our phones."

"So," the man prompts instead of answering, eyes flitting up to meet hers. His fingers are tapping a restless rhythm against the arm of his chair, but his other hand is gloved and stiff. A prosthetic, she assumes. "You're the S-"

"Sheriff," Emma finishes abruptly, tilting her hip to show the gold star pinned on her jeans. "That's why I have the badge. And you're sitting in my station."

His eyebrows raise. "I figured that much, but I was going to say Slayer."

Emma frowns, crossing her arms around herself. Her identity, for lack of a better word, is hardly a secret. Everyone in town knows who she is. While before Storybrooke she hid her weird strength and agility and all of the other nifty Slayer skills, here everyone expects her to have them. A side effect of being cursed from a land littered with demons and bringing some with them, Emma guesses.

But there's something in the way he says the word that makes her eyes narrow. Emma leans back against the desk she's standing next to, hand curling under her jacket to wrap around the stake she keeps there. She's thinking that's going to be the better bet. "What do you want?" she asks bluntly.

"Well," the stranger licks his lips, crossing his legs blithely on the chair he's sitting on. "You slay demons. I would like a demon slayed."

"What, you're tipping me off?" Emma asks skeptically. "How nice of you. Just tell me what I have to take care of and I'll be on my way. And you can," she thumbs towards the door, "get out of my way."

"You're a real spitfire, aren't you, Emma Swan?" he says, voice amused. The stranger sounds too satisfied for someone who didn't do anything more than read the name on her badge.

"Only when people are vague and unhelpful. So please, be helpful."

His lips curl into a smile, his light eyes bright against the backdrop of shadows the dim lighting in the station grants him. "Alright, then. The Dark One is your pawnbroker, going by Mr. Gold. The most nefarious demon in history. Surely the slayer has no interest in that."

He says the last words sarcastically.

"Actually," Emma sighs, "I don't."

The stranger's expression gets a lot less friendly. His eyes narrow. "What do you mean, you _don't_?

"If you kill the Dark One, you become one," Emma explains, standing up straighter. Her hand tightens on the stake in her jacket. She's not sure what the hell this guy is - usually vampires are more fangy and less conversational, but she's learned by now that they come in varieties - but she needs to be prepared regardless. "The Slayer becoming a demon kind of defeats the whole purpose."

His posture relaxes, but he still doesn't quit the pressuring. "Even the Slayer would succumb to the curse?"

"I'm not exactly eager to test out loopholes," Emma rolls her eyes. "We have a deal. He leaves everyone alone and I don't kick his ass."

"Do you know the amount of lives he's ruined?" he asks incredulously, rising to his feet. Emma just stares back at him, determined to stand her ground. "The people he's tortured? Killed?"

"I know that more people will get hurt if I poke a sleeping bear," Emma counters. "Believe me, if I could turn him to dust and have that be it, I would do it. But I can't. I have people to worry about, a town to worry about. I can't risk that because a stranger wants revenge."

"And how do you know that revenge is what I want?"

The mention of the people that Gold has hurt is an easy tell. "Isn't it?"

He visibly deflates as he takes in a deep breath, grimacing. "Aye. He took something very important from me."

"Your hand?" Emma motions to his arm, but keeps her eyes pinned to his. His eyes flicker, but they don't give anything away. "Or something else? Someone else?"

"If I tell you he took everything from me, would that convince you to look for a means of vanquishing him once and for all?" He steps closer to her until the space between them is more inches than feet. "If I told you he crushed the woman I love's heart in front of me, then would you consider helping me?"

"I'm sorry, but you're not the only one who lost someone," Emma grimaces, thinking of Regina and Graham and other things she can't stake her way out of. She feels a pang of sympathy for the guy, she does, but going after Gold could turn her into something worse than even him. Or he could get away regardless and crush Henry's heart in front of her to teach her a lesson. Either way, she doesn't see it going well for her. "Sometimes you have to pick your battles so you don't lose more than you already have."

"I was told that the Slayer would be able to defeat the Dark One. I've been searching for centuries for a means to do just that. I was frozen for twenty-eight years just waiting for you to get to this bloody town and -"

"Centuries," Emma's eyes narrow. It's all the confirmation she needs. "Funny you're telling me to hunt a demon when you're one yourself."

She lunges for him, weapon ready to aim. The vampire ducks out of her way, eyes widening as he backs up. "I'm not…"

Emma knocks him to the ground, stake in one hand as she presses him down to the linoleum with the other. "You know, usually they vamp out by now."

"Bloody hell, Swan, I'm not a demon!"

Emma scoffs. "You just told me you're centuries old."

"I spent those centuries in Neverland, a realm without aging. I have a heartbeat, Swan, I'm not a demon. Feel for yourself," the man gestures to his chest, the top half of it nearly revealed just by how unbuttoned his shirt is.

Emma freezes, stake placed just inches from him. She reaches down carefully, keeping her eyes on him suspiciously, as she feels for his pulse at his neck. She feels it beating steadily under her fingers, a sure sign that he's alive and not undead. Plus, his statements aren't setting off her lie detector. " _Oh_."

"Now if only I could convince you to hunt a real demon like you tried to hunt me," he grumbles, panting heavily. Emma is still sitting in his lap, thighs splayed on either side of his stomach. She frowns down at him, curling her hair out of her face with her fingers. She keeps her other hand around the stake, still needing the security of it in her palm.

"Neverland?"

"Aye," he nods, panting heavily as he attempts to sit up. Emma slides off of him, realizing the awkward position they're in, and sits beside him out of pure curiousity. At least now she knows she can take him on easily if she needs to. "Name's Captain Killian Jones. You may know me by my more colorful moniker…"

Her eyes go back to his prosthetic hand. Neverland, he said. "Hook. As in Captain Hook. Of _course_."

Between the demons and the fairytale characters, life gets a little too much for her sometimes.

"I would have worn it, but I suppose in this realm I don't have a particularly positive reputation either. I didn't steal a magic bean from Cora's grasp to get here only to jeopardize my chances of getting the Slayer's help," he explains with a groan. "Now, I know that was useless either way. You're no help."

"Again. Unkillable unless I feel like becoming a demon. You have to see my dilemma."

Hook moves to stand, brushing himself off with an exaggerated sigh. "Indeed, I do. Sorry to interrupt your night, Swan."

Hook walks away, leaving Emma sitting on the floor of the station in complete confusion. A centuries old human asking her to defeat one of the only demons she can't. It's one of the stranger things that has happened to her. Which is saying a lot, considering she was brought to this town by her son after it was revealed she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. The Slayer part was just icing on the already ridiculous cake.

But Captain Hook being upset that she can't hunt down Rumplestiltskin? That's a new one.

-/-

The next night is dull, the graveyard quieter than she usually likes it. She doesn't like demons, obviously, doesn't like the idea that they could constantly be creeping up to get her. But she's restless tonight, energy simmering in her. She paces the length of the cemetery, anxious to have something to fight. Maybe the next vampire will put up one, help her get some of that energy out.

It's been too long since she's had a good fight.

"So, this is slaying," a familiar voice observes. Emma swivels around to face the source, finding Captain Hook leaning against a nearby statue.

"You keep on sneaking up on me and you're going to get staked," Emma mutters, her heart rate returning to its normal speed. "What do you want?"

"Ah, apologies," Hook says, scratching behind his ears in something like genuine remorse. "Didn't mean to frighten you, Swan, I just admit I was...curious as to how all of this worked."

Emma holds up the stake in her hand. "Pointy end goes in the vampire," she deadpans.

"I figured that much," he sighs. "But I suppose I was more interested in seeing it in action. The slaying, as it were."

"This isn't pay per view. You don't get to just watch me fight for kicks."

"Pay per what?"

Great. He couldn't even have the cursed memories to make this any easier. "I don't like audiences," she says instead. "Then I have one more thing to worry about. The only neck I want to worry about being on the line is mine, not anyone who gets ideas about spectating. Unless you came here to lecture me some more about demons I can't kill, in that case I really don't -"

"I'm sorry for what happened in the station," he says, catching her off guard. Emma meets his eyes, stunned.

"You're apologizing? I'm the one that nearly skewered you with my pointy sidekick, here," she lifts up her stake to illustrate her point.

"About pressuring you about the Dark One. I...I suppose I put all my expectations that I'd be able to get my revenge on the Crocodile onto you. I didn't think that the consequences of you killing him would be the same as if I did it," Hook admits, sounding sincere. "I apologize for my crass behavior, Swan."

Emma hesitates, unsure of how even to respond. Before she has the chance, she's tossed aside by something behind her. She curses, falling on her face and righting herself back on her feet. Newborn vampires were always a little stupid, just knocking over the first thing in their path without regard to the fact a demon slayer could dust them in seconds.

" _Bloody hell._ "

"I'm dealing with it," Emma calls, stake in hand as she approaches the vampire that has Hook cornered against a tree. This is exactly why she doesn't like audiences. The vampire is fully vamped out, fangs descended and all, and he looks just inches from sucking Hook dry when Hook pulls a stake from his jacket and stabs him. Just like that, the vampire is dust.

Emma raises her eyebrows, faintly impressed. She's also a little miffed she didn't get to do it. Emma has been feeling a little antsy, something to fight would at least be catharsis. "This your first time dealing with vampires?"

"No," Hook says dusting himself off. "Ah, let's just say Neverland had its share of demons. My ship is made of enchanted wood for a reason, it wards off all sorts of nefarious creatures."

"Duly noted," Emma nods. "So, this is what you came for? To show off?"

"You beat my arse without breaking a sweat, Swan, I know where I stand in this," Hook replies with a faint grin. "Just wanted to apologize for being a git and see how the experts take on the lesser demons. I've heard legends about Slayers, I have to say I'm curious."

Emma sighs in exasperation. "Fine. You can stay. Just don't get in the way, okay?"

An hour later, she gets a take on a particularly agile vampire and show him

-/-

He starts going on patrols with her.

Hook has quick reflexes for a man without superpowers. He credits it to centuries of practice and being a _'survivor'_. He's not bad to work with - he usually spots where vampires are ready to spring out of the ground before she can. Emma is better with the fighting and the acrobatics of it all, sure, but he holds his own okay.

She's never fought at the side of anyone who could really do that, before.

(Emma could still definitely kick his ass if she needed to, though.)

Because of how capable he's proved himself, it catches Emma off guard when a particularly evasive vampire manages to turn Hook's own stake against him a few weeks later. Emma dusts it within seconds, but Hook is nurturing a particularly ugly looking gash on his stomach. Emma frowns, immediately tucking her own stake into her jacket as she tries to see how deep the wood managed to get. Given it's on the ground instead of still inside of him, she's thinking it was shallow, but the blood at the injury is cause of worry.

Hook grimaces, hand fixed to his side. "Don't worry about it, love, I'm fine. Just ruined a perfectly good shirt and vest, is all. Lucky the bastard didn't get the jacket."

"That'd be more believable if you didn't look like you were about to faint," Emma scoffs, stepping closer to him until they're toe to toe. He's leaning heavily against a tall gravestone, but it's barely holding him up. The wound at his side is still bleeding, the red streaking his pale hand. It's a good reason he wears so much black. Emma takes his hooked arm and drapes it over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he grunts, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Emma shoulders all of his weight without much effort."Getting you to a hospital before your trips to the graveyard become more like a permanent residency."

Hook grins at her, shaking his head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried."

She shrugs it off. "Slayer duties - stake the bad, save the innocent and all that."

"I'm hardly innocent."

She's sure that's true. But she's also sure of something else, too. "But you're a good man, I think," Emma explains as she steps alongside him. She wraps her hand around his hook, encouraging him to let her take all of his weight as they walk forward. He's barely a load on her shoulder.

"The first time we met you tried to violently stake me," Hook points out. "Now you're saying I'm good?"

"You could be worse. At least you aren't a vampire."

Hook snorts. "Aye, thank the gods for small favors, eh?"

-/-

"Hey, David, I'm going to be home late. Yeah, everything is fine it's just - the graveyard is feeling a little active tonight. No I don't need you to come here. Please leave your crossbow at home. I just thought I'd update you, I can handle all of it fine, I just didn't want you and Mary Margaret to wait up. I love you too. Yes, I will be safe. Bye."

"Boyfriend?" Hook asks from his hospital bed, eyes pinned to her as she finishes the call.

"Father," Emma rolls her eyes, tucking her phone back into her pocket. She shifts in her uncomfortable chair. The nurses let her stick around past their usual hours, making a special exception for the Sheriff even though they were dubious about treating a pirate with no medical history. They were all from the Enchanted Forest, anyway, they couldn't be too judgy. "Why, are you feeling jealous?"

"Why should I be? With a beautiful woman at my bedside, I have nothing more to want for," Hook grins widely. He's looking a lot better after some stitches, less gaunt and more of his usual healthy hue. He's never been in a hospital before, apparently, and the only way she could convince him to eat the food was to tell him that jello had healing properties. It's easily one of the most absurd situations she's ever been in.

"Your hospital bedside," she corrects, sidling her chair closer to him all the same. His smile remains intact. "I'm helpless for the damsels in distress, as you can tell."

He laughs good-naturedly in response.

"Wow, those pain meds must be good," Emma deadpans, astounded by his good mood given the circumstances. He's just been stabbed and had the wound closed up with a needle, there's no way he should have this pleasant of a disposition. "No more getting sliced by a random demon, okay?"

"I'll try my best," he assures her. His eyes turn softer as she sets her hand on the railing of the bed, his own hand reaching for hers. Emma lets him, feeling his fingers curl over hers. She feels a flush of warmth flow through her at the gesture. "You didn't have to stay."

"Yes," Emma argues, "I did."

"Because you're the Sheriff or because you're the Slayer?"

She shrugs. Emma doesn't have it in her to analyze her motivations right now. It's late, she's sore, and she just dragged her partner in slaying to the hospital. "Because I wanted to."

His smile this time is much brighter than his previous ones. "Then stay as long as you like,"

-/-

Hook doesn't show up to patrol for a few days afterwards. She tells herself it doesn't matter. Her parents don't know about her latest helper, neither does Henry. It's not like they've been visiting the graveyard enough to catch her during the only time she spends with him. She tries to keep them away from that aspect of everything as much as possible, fearful of the consequences if some rogue demon got their hands on them. But Killian -

Hook, she thought, was not...altogether unpleasant to have around while patrolling. He kept her awake, told a few tales about demons he's faced in his day while Emma told him some stories about when she first came to Storybrooke and discovered what the hell she was. Her powers, apparently, have been around since she was a teenager - she broke things too easily for foster families to keep her around - but until Storybrooke she didn't have a chance to use them. The curse brought all kinds of ugly things over to her world.

And some not so ugly things - her family, for one.

As much as her family has made her feel less alone, the aspect of being the Slayer just made her feel _more_ alone. She's the only one with the power to take on a bunch of murderous creatures. And when she broke the curse, it's as if they all decided to wake up after time stopped standing still. Emma patrols alone, fights alone, she does all of it alone.

Hook, these past few weeks, made her feel a little less alone.

When she walks past the docks on her way to the cemetery, his ship is hard to miss.

It's massive, for one, looking as if it's straight off of a movie set. It's a little intimidating, looming over the docks and casting a shadow on the ocean. She doesn't know if she wants to bother him or if wants to face possible rejection, but she worries for him. The last time she saw him he was in the hospital, she feels like she at least owes him a follow up after he got himself stabbed trying to help her out.

Emma steels herself, eyes darting from the concrete under her feet to the gangplank in front of her. She's not sure about manners when it comes to boarding a ship - they always did the _'permission to come aboard'_ thing on television, but it doesn't feel right to disturb the silence around her and start shouting.

Before she can war with herself some more, she hears footsteps on the wood. When she looks up at the source, Hook is looking right down at her.

"What brings you to the Jolly Roger, Swan?" he asks, gesturing to the ship around him as he walks down the gangplank to meet her. "Don't suppose you wanted to ask for a sailing trip."

"I just wanted to check in," Emma says, trying desperately to sound casual. She's sure she's failing. "See how you were healing up."

"Ah, I'm doing just fine love," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Can't complain. Doesn't even sting anymore, just a small scratch that you took care of for me."

"That Storybrooke General's kind nurses took care of for you," she corrects.

"I know what I said," Hook says lightly.

Emma presses her lips together, feeling uncertainty rise in her again. "Hook…"

"Killian," he corrects, taking another step closer to her. They're just inches apart, now, his chest just barely touching hers. "Call me Killian, love."

"Okay, _Killian_ ," she emphasizes. "I just wanted to check in. And now I have."

"I would have patrolled with you these past few nights, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have been of much use," he explains, voice sounding genuinely regretful. "It wasn't until today that I felt, well, up to my usual caliber."

"Patrolling isn't your job. It's mine. Seriously, there's nothing to worry about," Emma insists, though she admittedly did worry at his absence before. Patrolling got a little lonely. And it's easier, she's found, when someone has her back.

"I want to help you,"

"I don't need your help," Emma retorts stubbornly.

Killian's expression pinches. "Why are you pushing me away, Swan?"

"I'm not pushing, I'm just-"

"You're pushing," Killian corrects her, eyes fixed to hers. He's right, of course, she is pushing. But it's what she's good at. She's never been one for the long partnerships, more one night and leaving. The help patrolling is handy, sure, but maybe it's better if she doesn't have anyone to worry about.

Less people will get hurt if she's alone. Him included.

"I just…" she struggles to find the words. "I'm used to doing this alone."

"The fighting or something else?" he asks, his voice all too understanding.

"Both," Emma admits, sounding small. "I'm...it's both."

"That makes two of us, then," Killian says, reaching for her hand with his. She lets him take it, his fingers intertwining with hers. "But this is a bit better than being alone, isn't it? Having someone at your side."

"Killian…"

"If you want me to leave you alone, I will. But I don't think you want to be alone as much as you are used to it. I should know, I've spent centuries alone in a quest for revenge. But you don't have to fight alone, Emma. _We_ don't have to be," he emphasizes his words by pressing his hand against his chest, his forehead dipping down to hers, "alone."

Emma considers the words, mulling over them for a moment before deciding what to do next.

She leans her head up to kiss him, catching even herself by surprise. He takes a beat to reciprocate, but when he does it's with a gentle, easy pressure. It starts off slow, but they both have too much pent up to avoid deepening it. His hand moves to her back, pulling her closer to him, and Emma opens her mouth to slide her tongue against his. Killian moans into it, hand sliding to her backside and lifting her up slightly until she hooks her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. It takes a beat for Emma to realize just what kind of setting they're in.

Emma disconnects the kiss, panting. There's no one in sight at the docks, thankfully, but she doesn't want to give any passerbys a show. "You know, as the Sheriff, I think this qualifies as public indecency."

He laughs against her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck. "Ah, we wouldn't want that. I think we have an hour before the demons come out to play, would you be interested in spending it in more...private quarters?"

"I think I can make time," she grins, still held up by him. Killian walks backwards on the gangplank, taking her with him on board of the ship.

-/-

He has her pinned against the door of his cabin in no time, quickly stripping her of her jacket as she sheds him of his. The stakes they always keep tucked inside of their coats clatter to the ground and Emma can't hold back her laugh as he leans in to kiss her again.

"We're weaponless," he chuckles right along with her, skimming his lips to her cheek as he toes his boots off. Emma kicks her own off, her socks sliding with them. "As I said though, love, my ship is made of enchanted wood. A vampire just touching it would turn to dust."

"That's a useful feature," she agrees, moving his face with her hands so she can meet his lips again. Emma kisses him fully, greedily, rocking against him through their pants. He's already hard against her, every angled stroke grinding against her clit when she wraps one of her legs around him. "Can I see what the bed does?"

"I'll show you," Killian promises. Emma hooks her hands around his shoulders, letting her feet return to the ground as she backs him up until his knees hit the bed. He grunts when his back finds the pillows, but it turns into a different sound entirely when she sits above him and grinds against him.

"I don't usually do more than just the one night," Emma says, her hands unbuttoning the new vest. He must have found another one, after the last was punctured, and as much as the hospital robe was an adjustment the way the red brings out his flush in his cheeks does something to her. "Hard to."

"Neither do it. But I want more," Killian murmurs, his hand carefully tucking her hair out of her face. "I want more with you. Do you want that?"

"I don't know if I even know how to," Emma admits, her movements suddenly becoming heavier. He's still trapped between her thighs, cock pressing against her through layers, and she wants _this_. But it's been so long, since Neal and stolen keychains and sex in the back of a car that served as home, since she wanted anything more than this. But he -

"I understand," he murmurs, rising up to kiss her. "Perhaps I can show you, hm? We can learn together."

Killian flips her over until she's the one with her back to the bed, his hand and teeth making quick work of her shirt. It takes him a moment to figure out her bra and unclasp it, but with a pinch of his fingers on her back and her directions he manages. Killian slides his lips, then his tongue over the tips of her breasts before making his way down to her jeans. Emma's hands fist into his hair - not too hard - pulling him down until his head is between her legs.

"Let me take these off first, love."

His hook catches them at the loop, his teeth getting the button out of its hole and then dragging her zipper down. Killian take her jeans off with his hook and then her underwear, making quick work of both until she's bare.

"No ripping," Emma cautions as he slides them off of her. "I really like this pair - oh, _fuck_."

Killian is already dragging his tongue between her legs, arms tucked underneath her legs and keeping her anchored in place. Emma lets out a choked moan as he laves over her clit with just the right amount of pressure, harder than her partners before have tried it. It's perfect, just like this, and her hands go back to his hair. He keeps up until he finds the right pattern, one that has her legs stiffening and her breath catching.

"Just like that," she encourages, heat coiling in her belly. "God, just like that. Don't stop."

He follows her instructions and doesn't let up until she arches up, letting out a breathless version of his name. His grin is satisfied and his lips are wet when they meet hers again.

"You're dressed," she points out, still tingling. "We have to fix that."

"Aye," he agrees, "that we do."

Emma flips them over so that she's on top again, pressing him down into the mattress. She slides the vest off, and undoes the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers. Emma still feels the aftershocks and the roughness of his beard between her thighs, but it only serves to make her want this more.

Emma lets out a grunt of frustration when one of the buttons catch and Killian just laughs. "You can rip it, love."

"Oh thank god," she says, wasting no time in doing just that, much to his amusement. Emma slides down, divesting him of the rest of his clothing until he's just as bare as she is. He looks up at her, panting, and Emma sets her knees on either side of him. His cock taps once, twice against her clit and she gasps out just as he does.

"Whenever you're ready," Killian says encouragingly, hand and hook going to her hips. Emma's hands settle at his chest, keeping her in place. She's on the pill, thankfully, so all she has to do is adjust herself just right over him and -

"Fuck," she pants, sliding down until just the tip of him is inside of her, "that feels so good. You feel so good."

"I am to please," he hums, lifting his hips slightly as Emma goes down the rest of the way until she's seated at the base of him. She rocks back on her knees, squeezing around him as she clenches her eyes closed and just feels the way he drags inside of her.

"Bloody hell," he chokes out below her. "So tight, love."

"Slayer muscles," she grins, squeezing around him again as she bends down to kiss him. "They're pretty good, huh?"

"You're trying to kill me," he rasps, his eyes hazy as he cups her face. "But what a way to go."

Emma laughs, but when his hand slides just above where they're joined it turns into a low moan. He shifts below her, just enough that it changes the angle and makes his cock slide deeper inside of her.

"There we are," he hums, ringed fingers caressing where she's most sensitive. She clenches around him again, just for good measure, and the heat in her belly turns into a fire. Killian groans before he can finish his sentence, a sound that lingers in the back of his throat. "Is this how you want it?"

"Shouldn't I be, uh," she gasps out, another unrestrained sound as he tilts his hips upwards. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You feel incredible," his fingers pick up the pace as she does, keeping up her rhythm. "Just perfect."

Emma nods her agreement, catching her lip between her teeth. The pressure of his fingers get harder, quicker, and Emma makes her movements match. Within minutes, she's hanging over the precipice and nearly collapsing on top of him.

He tugs her down himself, his hand still between their bodies as his hooked arm wraps around her to crush her to his chest. Killian jerks his hips upwards, rubbing against her clit with his thumb, and that's all it takes. She comes with a harsh gasp that's muffled by his skin, teeth dragging along his collar. It doesn't take him much longer to follow her.

-/-

"A one time thing?" he asks, once they've both caught their breaths. Killian tugs the blanket at their side over them, draping it over her. Emma presses a grateful kiss to his ribcage, where she can feel his heart beating steadily.

"Yeah," she murmurs, once his hand rakes through her hair and she nuzzles further against him. Killian freezes, his disappointment palpable. His breath catches beneath her and she can feel the stillness of his chest, but she has more to say. "I think we only have fifteen more minutes until it gets completely dark. We're going to have to patrol, we only had _time_ for once."

"And after tonight?" he asks, hand curling her hair behind her ear.

"I don't know," she props her head up. "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh, I can more than handle it, love."

Emma laughs, causing a wide smile to appear on his lips. He kisses the corner of her mouth, reluctantly leaving her side to dress. She just sits up, watching him do so. "Sorry I ripped your shirt, by the way."

Killian reaches for his dresser, pulling out a button-up similar to the one he just wore. "No worries, darling, I have more. Rip all you like, it's well worth the cost."

Emma moves off of the bed to dress herself, starting with her underwear and jeans and ending with her boots and jacket. She picks up the stake that landed on the floor earlier, tucking it back inside of her jacket. "Ready to get back to work?"

Once his own jacket is on, his reply comes easily. "Fighting at your side? Aye, Swan. I'm always ready."

She kisses him again, just for good measure.


End file.
